Amore For All Time
by WizMonCruWil
Summary: OK, time to bring it all together. I have combined all the threads from my Harry Potter binge since last month to create this romantic one for Ron and Hermione and their early married life! Please, enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: Wedding Bells

**Chapter 1: Wedding Bells**

 _"Tale as old as time... song as old as rhyme... Beauty and the Beast..."_

Hermione Granger - no, Hermione _Weasley_ \- snuggled closer into the arms of her husband, Ron, as they swayed on the marquee dance floor. It was the last call for music at their wedding reception, and they were the only two left on the tiles. The party was winding down in earnest, with guests under various stages and degrees of inebriation milling off and away, disappearing into the swirling flakes of new falling snow, this Christmas of 2002.

"Thanks for marrying me," Ron rumbled, once the final notes of his bride's favorite Muggle song had faded away (he made a point to thank Harry later for that little tidbit of information - he knew it would make Hermione happy to have it in the DJ rolls).

"The wedding was wonderful," Hermione hummed, her head resting full on Ron's chest, her eyes closed in contentment. "Thanks for proposing to me." She giggled a little at this witty comeback.

Something blinked just on the edge of Ron's line of vision, and peering over the top of Hermione's head, he saw the gaggle of paparazzi in the distance, at the other end of the Weasleys' apple orchard, their cameras trained on the happy couple intensely. Ron scowled and held Hermione closer, possessively. If he had had his way, there would have been zero media at his wedding. But being one-third of the Golden Trio (and now married to another third) did certainly have its consequences. There were some parts about the fame that Ron genuinely enjoyed. The lack of privacy - particularly on his wedding night - wasn't one of them.

"Let's get out of here," Ron rumbled low in Hermione's ear, his breath tickling the lobe. He was anxious to be alone with her, where they could just be and make love and prove their devotion to each other. He had waited half his life for that moment, and did not want to wait much longer.

Hermione gazed up at him, smiling, her chin resting on his clavicle. "I have a better idea: let's give them something to write about." Her impish gaze threw him.

"Who are you and what have you done to my wife?"

There was a sharp intake of breath and a slight whimper as Hermione started on the word _'wife'_. "I adore it when you call me that." And pulling his face to her, she kissed him long and sensuously. She could sense the ruddy camera bulbs flashing out of the corner of her eye, and held the kiss, more for her own pleasure and desire for privacy than giving the bloody reporters their stories and quotas. Breaking apart at last, she rested her palms on Ron's chest.

"Well, Mr. Weasley, shall we retire?"

Ron beamed, the twinkle in his eye palpable, even behind the darkness of lust. "We shall, Mrs. Weasley." And so, the couple turned to the inevitable swarm of paparazzi, who immediately began flashing profiles and sticking microphones enhanced with Sonorus nearly up their noses:

"Mrs. Weasley, have you and your husband discussed having children?"

"Mr. Weasley, where will you be taking your wife for your honeymoon?"

"Will you both be working at the Ministry?"

All at once, there was a fluttering of fabric, and the happy couple quite abruptly disappeared. Shouts and cries and even more camera flashes went up over the spot where Hermione and Ron had once been.

"Move," Hermione heard her beloved brother-in-law whisper in her ear. The three deftly danced out of the hive of media, then turned on the spot and Disapparated up to Ron's room of the Burrow.

There was another rustling, and the Cloak came off, revealing the bride, the groom and the Best Man underneath it. "Man, how did we all fit under that?" Ron laughed.

"I memorized our blind spots and put up Concealment Charms," Harry explained flatly, wadding up the Cloak and stuffing it in his rucksack, then gathering cases of luggage and passing them to his friends. "Go," he encouraged. "Have fun in South America. I'll handle this crowd."

"Oh, Harry, are you sure?" Hermione asked. "You did more than enough already, walking me down the aisle after Daddy got emotional."

"These media types are like cats with a laser pointer," Harry assured her with a little disgust in his voice. "All I've got to do is wipe my ass and they'll be all over me."

"Charming," Hermione frowned in a dry deadpan.

Harry hugged Ron and Hermione in turn, giving the latter a kiss on the cheek. "It was a lovely wedding, little sister. Congratulations. I love you both." He made to leave, then turned back to shake Ron's hand. As they clasped arms, Harry took the opportunity to look Ron hard in the eye.

"Ron: be good to her, you understand?" It was payment in kind, for Ron had said something of the same to him after Harry wed Ron's little sister, Ginny.

Hermione crinkled her brow, half-stern, half-amused. "Goodnight, Harry," she prodded, physically turning Harry around and playfully pushing him towards the door.

"All right, all right, I'm going!" Harry winked at his siblings-in-law, then disappeared with a POP! Another POP! was then heard in the garden below, followed by a booming voice: "OI! I think that's them, on the veranda!" Screams and more bulb flashes could be seen as Harry effectively led the media away.

Ron and Hermione laughed. "He really is the best damn friend anyone could ever have," Ron chuckled. "Well, come on, love. I've been meaning to get you alone." His voice had dropped several octaves and he wiggled his eyebrows. Hermione giggled, blushing furiously, before the newlyweds turned on the spot and vanished.

* * *

There was nothing but a tangle of limbs. Sweaty, rumpled coverlets. Two sets of breathing and two hearts beating. The moon was high in the sky, basking its glow through the window of their honeymoon suite. Opposite the double bed, a fire was roaring nicely in the fireplace. Orbs dancing in its amber light, Ron and Hermione snuggled together, immersing themselves in the afterglow bliss.

Hermione burrowed her cheek further into Ron's bare chest. "I wish this moment could last forever."

Ron turned his head against the posterboard ever so slightly, his grin warm and gentle and pleased, though he tried hard to not make it seem smug. Smug that it was he who could make her so happy.

"Forever?" he rumbled, pressing a kiss into his wife's temple. "You wanna spend forever with me, Hermione?"

Hermione bobbed her head. "I do. I do," she sighed, sounding almost like a captivated young schoolgirl.

"I seem to recall you saying something of the same mere hours ago."

Hermione giggled, and craned her neck around to look up at him. Ron was gazing down at her, and there was something in his blue pupils that made Hermione take pause.

"What's wrong?"

"That's just it. Nothing's wrong. I still can't believe you chose me. That you sized me up and said, 'Yeah, you'll do.' When you could have had anyone."

"But I didn't want anyone," Hermione shook her head, beaming as she swung a naked leg over to straddle his waist, facing him chest-to-chest. "I wanted you. Careful - that's the locket talking."

Ron smirked. It was now an old joke between them, dark in its humor but also intensely motivating. Slytherin's locket had affected them all, Ron the worst. But whenever he or Hermione were not at their best, referencing the locket was their way of reminding the other person, "You're not you." They even did it to Harry, much to his annoyance.

Wrapping his arms about his wife, he wriggled her closer, locking their hips. "You were... inspiring, love. You were everything I fantasized about for my first time."

Hermione drew in her breath sharply, and peered at him with something between confusion, hope and amazement. "You mean, you didn't... with Lavender...?" Even though the blonde bimbo was dead in the ground (a fact that actually made Hermione's heart twinge, in spite of everything), she had always floated just beyond consciousness for the couple.

Ron gaped, rapidly shaking his ginger curls. "Bloody hell, no! I wanted to save myself... for you. At least, that way, I was faithful."

Hermione's heart melted. Apologies and forgiveness for their sixth year shenanigans had been exchanged long ago, yet she knew how difficult it was still for Ron to mention that part of their lives. She played with the nape of his neck. "That's so sweet..."

Ron bitterly barked out a laugh. "Yeah, except I should have been faithful about everything..."

"But we weren't together, then," Hermione pointed out, trying to get why he kept clinging to that word.

"No, but my heart belonged to you," Ron explained. "I was so jealous and... defeated. That you would never want me as something... more. And that even if you did, there was always going to be someone better. Like Harry or Krum."

Hermione laughed. Heartily. She couldn't help it. Still running her delicate fingers through his curls, she smiled tenderly. "Oh, Ron... don't you understand? I never felt for Harry that way. Or Krum."

"But you kissed Krum."

Hermione gawked, and nearly sprung out of his lap. "I most certainly did not! Who told you that?"

"Ginny," Ron blinked, thrown by his wife's reaction. "Harry and I caught her necking with Dean Thomas and we rowed. I got so pissed off that when Lavender threw herself at me..."

Hermione was opening and closing her mouth like a fish. "You mean you went and... because your sister lied... Ronald Weasley, that is the stupidest..."

Husband and wife stared at each other. And then they began to giggle. Laugh. Roar. They fell into each other's arms, nearly crying from the hilarity.

"We're such idiots! We wasted so much time!"

Hermione interlocked her fingers around Ron's neck. "But we're here now. I never thought in my wildest dreams that it would happen, that you and me - that _we_ \- would happen. But we _did_. So, let's make up for it, hmmm?"

And stretching herself languidly on top of Ron, Hermione slowly began to make love to him again. However, in the middle of her worship, she paused, blushing, self-consciously running her fingers through her untangled braid.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" She blurted out the question, turning an even deeper shade of pink. Her husband's jaw dropped.

"Bloody hell, woman! How could you think that I didn't...?" And to prove his point, he grinded desperately up against her.

"It's just... you never seemed to notice I was a girl. And I thought... how could you love someone so plain as me?"

Ron's mouth was so slack-jawed, flies could have flown in and out with no trouble. "Hermione... you are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. Shit, I bloody wanked to you for the first time when I was twelve!"

Hermione's mouth hinged into a perfect 'O.'

"I had never seen anything so beautiful... you were in nothing but your knickers... I barged in on you in the bathroom at the Burrow. Immediately turned around, went up to my bed, and masturbated. When I realized I wanted you... it scared me." By now, Ron's face was as red as his hair.

"It scared me too," Hermione admitted quietly. "But then, I was relieved. And so anxious to tell you."

Ron seized Hermione and mashed his lips to hers. She moaned, her eyes drooping shut, and kissed back, quickly becoming very involved. Ron's lips sprang down her neck and jawline, his bride clutching him close and trembling with desire.

"I love you, Hermione Weasley."

Hermione whimpered. "Say my new name again," she commanded breathlessly.

"Mrs. Weasley..." Ron smirked.

"Yes..." Hermione panted. "Yes..." Then, with a tiny mewl - "Ron!" She came all around him.

"I... I love you too," and tears pricked at her eyes, so crippling was the love Hermione felt for this man. Holding each other close, the couple resumed showing each other just how much they were in love...


	2. Chapter 2: Struggles

**Chapter 2: Struggles**

Harry frowned at the back of the man in front of him. A full head taller than he was, Harry had to crane his neck to read the type across the back of the stranger's ballcap: Puddlemere United. Lovely.

Glancing to his right, Harry noted how Richard Granger was failing to hide his amusement. "Want me to put you on my shoulders, son?" Hermione's father gave him a teasing wink.

Harry scowled, though it quickly upturned into a smirk. "I'll manage, Richard."

On Richard's other side, Jean Granger swatted at him. "Richard, leave the poor boy be!"

Harry hopped once, trying to see over the heads of the other waiters, to no avail. "I can't see a bloody thing! What does the board say, Mrs. Granger?"

Jean peered at the Flights board. "They've landed. I can see their gate from here... Oh, look! There! Richard, Harry, there! It's Ron!"

The three broke through the crowd, Ron raising his hand in greeting upon spotting Harry's signature glasses. Carry-on bag in hand, Hermione danced around her husband and flung herself into her parents' arms.

"Mum! Daddy!"

"Hello, Princess," Richard pecked his daughter's cheek, before moving to shake Ron's hand. "How was the honeymoon?"

"So romantic!" Hermione directed to her mother as they embraced, then moved on to Harry. Smirking in bemusement, she paused to straighten his tie. "Just come from the office, big brother?"

Harry smiled. He could get used to hearing her call him that, now that they were siblings by marriage. "Yup. Ginny's waiting with supper." He kissed her cheek, then hissed in her ear. "Fancy dropping by my office for lunch tomorrow? I want to hear all about it! I'd ask Ron, but he tends to embellish any story he tells."

Hermione laughed. "He does at that. Sure. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

* * *

More in love than ever, and wanting to keep some of their wedded bliss, Ron and Hermione began trying for a baby soon after coming home. Both were still very early in their careers at the Ministry, Ron with Harry in the Auror Department, and Hermione beginning in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But no matter what they did, no matter how often Ron and Hermione had sex, a little bundle of joy failed to appear. Meanwhile, the other Weasleys had already begun having families, and were continuing to do so. Hermione did her best to hide her concern, pretend that nothing was wrong.

Unfortunately, the wizarding media did little to ease her worry. After all, controversy sells. And the fact that the married two-thirds of the Golden Trio, the wizarding world's greatest love story, had failed to conceive a child was very controversial indeed.

It was late 2004, and the Golden Trio were meeting up for lunch at their break hour, just as they always did. Hermione bestowed a kiss for her husband, a hug for Harry, as she pilfered a _Daily Prophet_ while moving into the lunch line. It wasn't until the three sat down that she got a good look at the front page article... and slammed the parchment down in frustration, blinking back tears, several lines in.

"Look at this! I can't believe it! She's done it again!"

Harry craned his eyes up over the rim of his spectacles, as he attempted to read the _Prophet_ and its offending article upside down. "Who?"

"Rita Skeeter! Who else?"

Ron quirked one eyebrow as he brought his coffee mug to his lips. "What the bloody hell's the _Prophet_ doing, hiring Skeeter?"

"Free-lance, apparently," Harry reported disappointedly. "Though Luna says she's still mainly with the _Quibbler_."

"Luna should have fired that tramp a long time ago," Ron muttered darkly, taking a sip from his brew.

"Oh, she would, but Skeeter still has power, whatever you think of her."

"Get a load of this rubbish!" Hermione interrupted the boys. " _In what many have deemed a befuddling tragedy, we have yet to hear the pitter-patter of little feet from the Romeo and Juliet of our times, Harry Potter's beloved friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Weasley (nee Granger). Sources tell me that Mrs. Weasley's long-ago suffering under the Cruciatus Curse during the War has potentially left her infertile. Doctors at St. Mungo's refused us access to Hermione Weasley's medical records._ "

Harry spluttered. "She tried to get into your medical records?! That's bloody illegal!"

"And a load of tripe, to boot!" Ron angrily threw down his napkin. "I'm gonna go down there and have a serious talk with that... woman!"

"Don't bother," Harry shook his head. "I'll pass it along to Ginny, and she'll just do it for you - and in a much more clever way."

Having not thought of that, Ron lowered himself back into his seat, satisfied... until he saw the ashen, fearful look on his wife's face. Gently, Ron took her hand. "Hermione... that story is rubbish! Infertility due to Crucio... why, that's ridiculous!" He brushed a lock of hair out of her face and leaned over the table to kiss her cheek. "We'll have a baby one day soon... I promise."

Hermione smiled at her husband weakly, interrupted by the bell ringing. Clearing away, she kissed Ron goodbye deeply, and buzzed Harry on the cheek.

* * *

It was one mid-morning a couple of weeks later when Hermione entered Harry's office with her lunch pail in hand. For a moment, she paused in the doorway, admiring her beloved brother-in-law.

Harry always got into a zone when he was working. His glasses were always pushed down to the edge of his nose, so that he read the type over their rim. His mouth in a hard line, slightly open. Eyes serious with concentration. And the smile he now gave her upon seeing her was one already wrinkled somewhat with age. He looked very much a man - perhaps a little before his time. But, after all he had been through, who could blame him?

"Just in time, baby sister. Pull up a chair."

Smiling warmly, Hermione took a seat on the other side of Harry's desk. Ever since the beginning of their careers, she and Harry had made a point to set aside one lunch a week for just the two of them. They took their meals with Ron every other day of the week, and Hermione always had her husband to go home to for dinner every night (Ron had proven himself to be quite a good cook, and surprisingly judicious in his sharing of the household chores).

"Ron's gone to the shop today. To eat with George."

"Ah, it's George's turn this week, then, is it?" Ron filled his Wednesday lunch times by visiting with his siblings, save for far-away Charlie. He would rotate through his remaining siblings for the month, until the cycle started itself over again.

Hermione nodded. Then, she ventured quietly. "How's the baby?" Ginny had given birth to her and Harry's first child, James Sirius Potter II, just a few weeks earlier, on a blustery March day.

Harry's smile was aged, crinkled, but still warm. "An impossible, loud bundle of joy. But we love him."

"When he's not waking you and Gin up," Hermione quipped. They both laughed. Harry cleared his throat.

"Are you and Ron still...?" his voice trailed off.

Hermione nodded, her lips now pursed and tight. "Still nothing."

Harry raised one eyebrow. "He's been good to you?"

Hermione giggled, gazing at him affectionately. "You're cute when you're protective," she teased sweetly. "Your eyebrows get all scrunched together. Yes, Ronald has been nothing short of wonderful."

"Ruddy better," Harry grunted. "I'm a defensive brother bear, you know." He smirked lovingly, and Hermione laughed, recalling the Trio's recent movie night, just after baby James (and an exhausted Ginny) had gone to bed. They had watched some Muggle Disney movie, she and Harry reminiscing over their shared Muggle childhoods; Ron had only gotten into it when he learned that the headliner of Genesis - some retro Muggle band - had written and performed all the songs.

"I knew you shouldn't have gotten Ron those seventies records last Christmas," Hermione muttered. But she knew - and she knew Harry could tell - that the quip felt forced. Soothingly, her brother-in-law took her hand.

"It will happen when the time is right, Hermione. And you'll be a bloody amazing mother. Can't you just imagine how beserk Ron is going to get? He won't be able to keep his hands to himself!"

Hermione throatily laughed, a laugh which quite unexpectedly turned into a sob. Eyes filled with concern, Harry circled his desk and knelt by her chair, an arm around her shoulders.

"Why is this happening, Harry?" Hermione whispered. "Why can't I...?"

Harry regarded her sadly, heart breaking for her. "I don't know, little sister. But I'll help you, however I can. I promise."

* * *

It was difficult to go back to work after Hermione had left. Finally, at about the 3:00 hour, Harry gave up going over paperwork, and headed for the lifts, Flooing home to Godric's Hollow.

Emerging from the emerald-green flames of the fireplace, he found Ginny coming down the stairs, a fussing James on her hip, just up from his nap. She cocked an eyebrow.

"You're home early."

"I know, I'm sorry," Harry huffed tiredly, ruffling his son's crown, and pecking his wife on the cheek. "Couldn't concentrate after a while." Depositing his briefcase beside his favorite easy chair, he stalked for the kitchen. He could feel Ginny's eyes on him, and waited for her to say something. In almost four years of marriage - and thirteen years knowing each other - she was beginning to read him almost as well as Ron and Hermione.

He was at the sink when he heard Ginny's voice at his back: "Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry thumped his hands onto the marble countertop, his gaze fixed on one spot by the faucet, brooding. "I can defeat Dark Wizards. I can capture and imprison Death Eaters all the live long day, but I can't help my best mates be happy? I'm Harry Potter, for fuck's sake!"

Ginny came to stand behind him, one hand massaging soothingly along his shoulder blades. "Is this about that tabloid crap from Skeeter a couple of months ago? About Ron and Hermione trying to get pregnant?"

Harry nodded glumly. "And I think Hermione's starting to believe it. She... got a little emotional at our Wednesday lunch today. It's starting to get to her, the desire to want to be pregnant. And frankly, I don't think the family's helping. Molly keeps dropping hints at every family dinner. And everyone else is popping out kids like they're Chocolate Frogs!"

"Never heard that analogy before," Ginny muttered dryly. A pause and then: "Do you believe it? What Skeeter wrote?"

"I don't know!" Harry growled, tossing a dish rag into the sink.

"Well, don't. What happened at Malfoy Manor wasn't your fault."

"No," Harry rapidly shook his head. "I did this. I betrayed my family." He groaned, hanging his head dejectedly. "Vernon was right."

Ginny didn't bother to ask what incident from his hellish childhood Harry might be referring to. Though he had opened up to her about the horrors he experienced at the hands of the Dursleys, Ginny did not take much stock in whatever lies those horrid Muggles might have fed her husband. Turning her husband round, she caught his eyes and held them. "You can't protect Ron and Hermione forever, Harry."

Harry sighed. "But there's gotta be something I can do!"

"Ssh. You don't have that kind of power. You've never bought into your own legend. Don't start now!" It came out as a bit of a teasing jab, yet there was still a serious warning behind it. Harry had always been careful about his own fame, controlling what he could, and setting the record straight on what he couldn't. But this... Ginny could not deny that there was a certain power inherent in just being Harry Potter. And that, when it came to the happiness and parental wishes of his best friends, Harry was more than a little tempted to find some means through which to harness that power for two people she was certain he loved just as much as her and their son. A loophole. Some way. Any way.

Ginny settled to wrapping Harry in a hug, letting him share his burden with her, as she had countless times before.

"They've done so much for me. I just want to do something for them in return."

"You already are. Be their best mate. Lend an ear. The rest will work itself out in time."

* * *

Back at the Ministry, the offices were deserted, her colleagues long since departed home for the night. Yet, Hermione was still here, alone, throwing herself into her work, even though her tear-stained eyes and cheeks were begging her for a rest.

A creak of her office door made her start, glance to the clock and the lateness of the hour she had long since ignored. Then back to the open doorway, to find that the hallway backlit onto a unsettling head of blinding white-blonde hair.

Hermione hastily dabbed at her eyes, and tried to sound stronger than she felt as she growled, "What do you want?"

Draco Malfoy shuffled his feet awkwardly, taking a sudden interest in the carpet which he was now scuffing with his dragon-hide saddle shoes. He appeared the meekest and most unsure of himself that Hermione had ever seen him, and when he finally raised his eyes to her, he would not meet her gaze, at least not all the way. And perhaps it was smart that he didn't.

"I... I've been hearing some things. Going around the Ministry. That you and Weasl - _Ron_ \- are struggling to have a baby."

Hermione glowered at him, slamming the latest file on her desk shut. It had been with great dismay to silently observe the staying power of Rita Skeeter's gossip from several months before. "That is none of your business! And you shouldn't believe everything you read, Draco!" Though the second chiding had less venom in it than the first.

"Skeeter might be right, though!" She glanced at him, dumbfounded, and Draco once again averted his gaze. "About... the Cruciatus Curse. And some of its... physical effects. I've... read some things." Whether or not this reading had been done in response to the rumors about Hermione, Draco did not let on. "And if that's so... I'm sorry. I... I wanted to stop them, that night. Protect you. But I was scared and I didn't know how. You've... you've really made me re-think... what I was always taught... and for the better. So, thank you."

Hermione gaped at her former school rival in astonishment. Never, in all her life, had she ever anticipated that Draco Malfoy would apologize to someone like _her_. And that reveal, about him wanting to stop her torture that horrid night... Of the little she could remember from the ordeal, Hermione vividly recalled seeing Draco's blank face, as he seemed to sit back and let his sadistic aunt abuse her within an inch of her life. Could she believe him, that his passivity had not been for lack of trying, at the eleventh hour, to find some humanity?

... Maybe. She blinked rapidly, before getting out. "Thank you... Draco. That was... really sweet." Rapidly gathering her things, she circled her desk and moved past her former classmate. But she paused at the door, turned back to look him in the eye. When she was sure she had his attention, she said, quite simply:

"I forgive you."

* * *

The minute she appeared with a CRACK! in her and Ron's bedroom, Hermione buried her face in her hands and wept. She wept over the baby that she so desperately wanted with Ron. She wept over the possibility that Bellatrix had left an indelible control over her life, even from beyond the grave. She wept with relief that she had finally forgiven a man whom had long tormented her just because of who she was, and that he had apologized for it.

Hearing her sobs, Ron stumbled from the master bathroom, face etched with concern. "Hermione? Love, what is it?"

Whimpering, Hermione ran into his arms, throwing her limbs around his neck. "Oh, Ron! I'm afraid! Afraid for my life!" she wailed.

"Bloody hell! What's ailing the belle of Ottery St. Catchpole?" Ron chuckled, though the concern remained clear in his voice.

"I'm sorry I'm crying... I can't help it!"

Ron clutched her closer and chuckled soothingly. "You cry your eyes out!" he told her.

"Don't leave me!"

"Never," Ron growled, rocking his wife gently, letting her come apart on his shoulder. At last, when her sobs had faded into sniffles, he leaned back, lifting her chin daintily with a finger. "What is it, my love?"

Hermione gulped, her voice filled with a tremor as she spoke. "Draco Malfoy... stopped by my office. While I was working late."

Instantly, she felt Ron's grip on her forearms tighten. A muscle ticked in his jaw as his entire face contorted into wary concern and little bit of anger. "Did he hurt you?"

"No." Hermione shook her head.

"Did he _touch_ you?" A wolf did not have the growl in Ron's tone.

"No!" Hermione yelped, her insides churning with disgust at the very thought. "He... he heard about Skeeter's article. From a couple months ago. He... he thinks that my torture may have... lasting physical damage. That it might explain why I haven't..."

"Gotten pregnant? Why in the ruddy hell is Draco _sodding_ Malfoy talking to you about this?" Ron snarled.

"He apologized," Hermione blurted out. "For not helping me that night at the Manor. And... I forgave him." The last came out in a whisper, and Hermione found herself still a little shocked that she had in fact forgiven Draco for his sins.

Her husband was peering at her curiously. His brow was creased in thought, and maybe a little lingering bitterness. "Well, you're a better person than I am. Cause I'm _never_ forgiving him."

Hermione rested her hands on his chest. "I don't expect you to," she murmured gently.

"Good. I'm not like you, Hermione. I have so much... anger, especially over what those bastards did to you. And... as much as we bicker and nag, you... you calm me. I love and need you so much for that." Hermione was startled to find tears swimming in Ron's blue eyes, as he gazed down at her with unabashed adoration.

Hermione smiled at him gently. "I'm so glad I do that for you."

"You do, and so, so much more," Ron beamed with love. "That smile, right there - you don't know how many times you've raised my spirits with it." He kissed her, long and lingering. "Merlin Almighty, I love you, Hermione."

"And I love you," she sighed, melting into his embrace and resting her head on his chest. There was a moment of silence, where the couple just let themselves be together and in love, before Hermione spoke again:

"I had lunch with Harry today."

"Hmm?" Ron's chin shifted in her hair from where he had been resting it on the top of her head. "Oh, right. Wednesday. And what did you two geniuses talk about?"

"About James. He's getting so big! I... mentioned how we've still been trying. He asked," she explained when Ron peered down at her. "He seemed really concerned that there's been... nothing." A sudden thought struck her, specifically recalling something that Harry had said, and her eyes searched her husband's face. "Do you think... Harry might be able to help us?"

Something in Ron's expression was now unreadable. His jaw had hardened, and he seemed flat-footed over how to respond. "We don't need his help," he got out at last, and his vehemence shocked her. Ron kissed her again, passionately, and Hermione allowed herself to melt into in, setting aside for the moment Ron's strange reaction regarding their best friend. Her best friend. Her brother. The father of their nephew and godson.

* * *

Ron waited until Hermione had fallen asleep in their bed, before quietly stealing out of their room, down the stairs and Flooing into the fireplace.

He emerged inside the Potters' living room, in Godric's Hollow, to find lights on in the kitchen, and both his sister and a frazzled Harry attempting in vain to quell a fussing James.

Ron started straight for his brother-in-law, ignoring Ginny's startled, "Ron, what are you doing here? It's the middle of the night!"

"What did you say to Hermione?" Ron demanded, also ignoring how his sister's husband was currently otherwise engaged with their son.

"Say what? What are you talking about?" Harry frowned, as he wrestled to get James into a clean nappie - apparently, the source of all the ruckus.

"You said you wanted to help us have a baby! Now what did you mean by that?"

"What I said. Just that I wanted to help her!"

"How?"

Harry's eyes widened a little as he clued in, thinking back to the lunch from earlier that day. "Oh. I just thought..." and he all at once seemed to flush red. "I didn't mean anything specific, but I was thinking... maybe I could be a... a donor? You know, sperm?" At Ron's gaping look, Harry added quickly. "The thought only just occurred to me this evening! I hadn't even decided whether or not I was going to bring it up. To you, or Hermione."

Ron's entire face tensed. Harry eyed him warily, not even noticing how Ginny's mouth had fallen open in shock and that James had even stopped squirming, as if he could sense the solemnity in the room.

"Ron -?"

"I'm not raising your kid, Harry. For once in my life, I want something that's mine and Hermione's!" And Ron stormed back out through the Floo, leaving a gaping Harry and Ginny in his wake.

* * *

Christmas Eve was always a magical night at the Burrow. Hell, the whole holiday season was, but Hermione had to admit that the festivities grew bigger and bigger each year. Molly Weasley had now gotten into the habit of cooking two dinners, one for the Eve and one for the actual holiday.

"Mum, you work yourself too hard," at least one of the children or children-in-law would say. Mrs. Weasley would just brush this off, and sit back satisfactorily as her family dug in and someone would then say how she had outdone herself from last year's dinners.

The family had already begun to expand. Bill and Fleur had welcomed their second child, Dominique, in July of 2003. Percy and Audrey had had a girl, Molly II, in April 2004, and George and Angelina had gotten married that summer. Oh yeah, and little James Potter II also came along, in March of 2005, just under a year after miniature Molly. At nine months old, he was already a little devil. Hermione recalled that Harry had been as nervous as a cat on the day his son was born, running around frantically trying to get Ginny to the hospital. At one point, he had tripped, crashed into Ron and both men fell down the stairs, fracturing several bones. It had been quite a mess at St. Mungo's that day, but was now a baby story that was sure to be followed by more funny ones to come.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as George suddenly stood up and chinked his glass to get everyone's attention. He then turned to his wife, obviously looking to her to tell whatever it was that had to be told. Angelina looked like she was about ready to burst from excitement.

"I'm pregnant!" she squealed. Everyone smiled and started to applaud, as had now become standard procedure, when a sudden shriek made them all jump.

"No way!" Audrey cried. "Me, too!"

"Moi aussi!" Fleur suddenly cut in, looking disappointed that someone had already beaten her to the punch.

Ginny grimaced. "I guess this is a bad time to, uh, fourth that?..."

Charlie, the only Weasley son who had not married, threw back his head and groaned. "Oh my god!"

Mrs. Weasley burst into tears. She jumped up and ran to her daughters, hugging the life out of them. Her husband laughed heartily and threw his arms over Bill and Percy's shoulders. "Oh, wait 'till I tell this at the Ministry!" he chortled.

Hermione bit her lip as she watched her family devolve into chaotic excitement. All the women were asking each other how far along they were; it seemed the babies would be born within weeks of each other. Hermione felt truly happy for everyone, but could not shake the feeling of being left out. She tried hiding it for a little while by passing congratulations all around. Eventually, though, she could not contain it any longer and promptly left the table for upstairs with a small "Excuse me." Harry and Ron quickly noticed her departure and looked at each other. Both simultaneously got up, but then paused and regarded each other. Without saying a word and communicating only with their eyes, they slowly sat back down again. The family had stopped all chatter to watch the exchange. Ginny just shook her head, amused.

"I swear, sometimes I wonder if you two share a brain when it comes to her!" she observed. Everyone chuckled knowingly and resumed eating and discussing babies.

* * *

The moon was high in the sky that night when Hermione was pulled out of sleep. She had been dreaming of babies and one had not stopped crying. Now, she realized there actually was a baby crying. Assuming that one of the parents would take care of it, she waited for the wailing to abate. When it didn't after several minutes, she quietly got up to investigate.

Slipping down the hall, she gently pushed on the door that led to the spare room. It had been converted into a guest nursery for the grandchildren, and currently housed three cribs; at 5 years old already, Victoire slept in a trundle bed in the guest room that belonged to her parents. The whole family always spent a few nights at the Burrow over the Christmas holiday. Hermione identified the source of the cries immediately.

"Ssh, ssh, James, it's alright. Aunt Hermione's here. Did you have a bad dream? Aw, well I did too. Come on, Aunt Hermione will hold you." She grunted a little as she picked him up; he had already gotten quite big, and began to rock him gently. Her nephew and godson slowly began to calm and let out a yawn. Turning his face into her nightgown and gripping it with his tiny hands, he fell asleep. Hermione smiled. She would never forget when she had first held him, after Harry had asked her and Ron in a heartfelt request to be James's godparents. She wondered if she would feel the same when she had her own child. If she ever had her own child…

"You're his favorite, you know." Hermione jumped at the voice and whirled around to see a bleary-eyed Harry leaning against the doorframe. He smiled softly. "He won't fall asleep that fast for anyone else – not Audrey, not Fleur, not Angelina… hell, not even Ginny."

"I'm sorry," Hermione began. "He woke me up and no one was coming right away, so…"

"That's alright," Harry interrupted, as he strolled over and watched as Hermione gingerly placed his son back into his crib. "You're his godmother; he'll give you good practice for later when…" He paused when he saw Hermione visibly stiffen. "'Mione? Are you alright?"

Hermione, whose back was now to him, nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just…" A brief silence, and then she burst into tears. The next second she was being pulled into Harry's arms, and he was rocking her back and forth like the baby she had just lulled to sleep. Hermione buried her face into her brother-in-law's nightshirt, so as to muffle her sobs and not wake the grandchildren. Besides her husband, Harry was the only man who could hold her like this and she would still be comfortable.

"Hush, now. It's all right." Harry soothed.

"Oh, I want a baby so bad!" Hermione blubbered.

"And you and Ron will get there eventually. Trust me. You'll make amazing parents."

"But what if we don't get there? What if there really is something wrong in our ability to conceive? What if I became sterile because of my torture? What if I – if I can't – Ron won't want to stay; he'll leave me!"

"Now stop it!" Harry hissed, a dash of firmness in his voice. He gently pushed her back and gave her a little shake. "If there is one thing you're husband is, it's that he's loyal – to the end. Nothing can change the way Ron feels about you. Nothing." He pulled her back into his arms. "I highly doubt Bellatrix could have damaged your reproductive system with the bloody Cruciatus Curse. And if, by some cruel twist of fate, she did, it's just one more reason for Ron and I to hate her, for me to blame myself, and for Ron to ride my ass about how it's my fault when he's had one too many butterbeers."

Hermione wanted to refute his culpability in her torture, but she could only laugh and hiccup through her tears. She looked up into his face. "I love you, big brother."

Harry grinned. "I love you too, little sister."

"Everything ok?" Both turned to see Ron in the doorway. Hermione slipped out of Harry's arms and flew into Ron's. Her husband did not seem fazed. He had learned long ago to not worry about his wife's feelings towards Harry. His two best friends cared for each other like siblings. When Hermione wouldn't let go and remained quiet, Ron glanced at Harry, and his brother-in-law filled in the details.

"Don't worry about it anymore," Ron murmured to his wife. "You are already a fantastic godmother and aunt – and you will make a bloody amazing mum when the time is right. Come on, let's go back to bed." They crept down the hall to their guest room and slipped into bed. Harry made to follow them out, then glanced back at the nursery. He could already imagine it a lot more full by this time next year. Smiling, he closed the door.

* * *

Hermione nervously pinched the pregnancy test between her thumb and forefinger. She had followed the instructions, peed on the stick. Now all she had to do was cast the charm. With shaking hands, she waved her wand over the test. The Muggle strip of paper said she was pregnant, but would magic - a more reliable indicator - back her up? A green light on her wand tip would tell her she was pregnant. A purple light meant no.

When the light turned green, Hermione burst into tears. She squealed, practically dancing around the privacy of her and Ron's little bathroom. At last, at last! She was pregnant with Ron's child! Beaming, Hermione hurriedly dressed, and raced over to the Ministry. She had called into her department sick that morning, which had been the truth (thanks to yet another bout of nausea into the toilet), but she didn't care. She had to tell her husband! And she had to tell Harry!

It was luck that she found them huddled together in Harry's office, going over what looked like some intelligence briefings. Her smile wide, her heart nearly bursting with happiness, she glossed over their surprised faces at finding her out and about, as she closed the door and happily huddled them around her.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" Harry blinked.

"Love, what is it?" Ron asked, caressing her cheek worriedly.

"Nothing's wrong," Hermione assured them, glowing. "Something wonderful has happened." When she was only met with perplexed stares, she took Ron's hands in her own and gazed up into his face. "Ronnie..." using her pet name for him. "I'm pregnant."

At her side, she sensed Harry's mouth fall open, as she watched Ron's blue orbs alight with hope. "Are... are you really?"

Beaming tightly, blinking back tears, Hermione nodded vigorously. "Yes, Ronald. I am."

A moment of silence. And then:

"BLOODY BRILLIANT!" Ron crowed, picking his wife up and spinning her around in his arms. Hermione held on, laughing and shrieking. Harry was whooping, hopping up and down on the spot, all professional demeanor forgotten.

And then Ron was kissing her, desperately, his hands ghosting over her still-flat abdomen, although he now knew that a baby lay within.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Ron mumbled against her lips, between frantic pecks.

"Wait and see," Hermione giggled.

She drew away after a moment and gazed up into Ron's face, her soft eyes searching his. "This gift is for you," she told him quietly, resting his hands on her abdomen. "I forgive you. For leaving Harry and I all those years ago."

Ron looked close to bursting into tears. "I don't deserve it," he whispered brokenly. Hermione tilted his chin.

"You do," she countered. "You came back."

Harry took Hermione's hand and squeezed it. "I promise as godfather that I will protect your baby from anyone or anything," he solemnly vowed. Then, the gravity of the statement was gone, as he threw his arms around both of his best mates. "Oh, wait till I tell Ginny! She'll go mental!"

Finally, finally, Ron and Hermione were going to have the child - the family - they had always wanted.


	3. Chapter 3: Bundles of Blessings

**Chapter 3: Bundles of Blessings**

"Mrs. Weasley! Mrs. Weasley! Over here! Have you thought about Muggle primary schools yet?"

"Mr. Weasley, can you tell us the baby's due date?"

Camera bulbs flashed as Ron and Hermione posed for a photo shoot/press conference surrounding the news that they were expecting. Neither of them had wanted to do it, but Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt had more or less insisted. Even as she beamed in Ron's arms for the paparazzi, Hermione felt a little uncomfortable being photographed while Ron's strong arms cradled her baby bump that was still only just perceptible. Leaning against the wall in one corner, silently acting as moral support, was Harry.

Ron spoke into the microphone. "She is about eight weeks along. You lot are smart. Do the math!"

From his perch, Harry smirked. He and Ron held the same rather condescending opinions about the media. Unfortunately, his little expression made some reporters and photographers round on him.

"Mr. Potter, do you know if you'll be the godfather for the baby?"

Harry held up a hand. "That is the business of my brother and sister-in-law. And I will not put any pressure on them regarding that decision. And now I think it's time that the expecting mother gets her rest. Good day to all of you." And he hustled his best friends away amidst the flurry of flash bulbs and shouted questions.

* * *

Harry bounced his leg nervously in the waiting ward at St. Mungo's. The crossword page off the back of last month's _Quibbler_ taunted him, and he tried in vain to concentrate on the next horizontal line. All at once, he heard a scream that caused him to leap from his seat, upending the magazine out of his lap. He knew that scream... oh, Merlin, did he know that scream. It was a scream that he had hoped he would never have to hear again... He probably hated it just as much as Ron when Hermione was in any pain. He didn't mind admitting it. It was small comfort to remind himself that with Ginny, his nerves had been far worse. And right now, his nerves were pretty much shot.

Slowly lowering himself back into his chair, Harry tried to return his attention to the crossword puzzle. Another wail from down the ward that clearly belonged to his sister-in-law. Harry threw down the crossword puzzle in frustration. "Bloody hell!"

Stalking just beyond the sliding glass doors, he fished out a ciggy and a lighter from the pocket of his Gryffindor sweatshirt. He took a long, slow drag from the thing, coughing a little at the slight unfamiliarity. He wasn't an addict, and he only had a puff in very stressful situations - stressful situations having particularly anything to do with Ron and Hermione. The practice had started in those miserable winter weeks while Ron had been away from the Horcrux hunt. When Hermione had been recovering at Shell Cottage, Harry had whipped through a whole pack a week.

The sliding doors opened behind him, and Harry jumped, the ciggy tumbling out of his mouth and dropping into a potted plant. "Augamenti!" he mumbled, ensuring that the poor azalea didn't catch fire. Turning around, he saw Ron slowing out of a jog up to him.

"She's here!" he panted breathlessly, his eyes alive with excitement.

Anxious, Harry followed him back to Hermione's room. Entering, he found Ron stooping over and kissing an exhausted Hermione, who held a pink bundle in her arms.

"You were brilliant, love," Ron was telling her. "Healers said they've never seen a smoother labor."

Harry thought back to hearing her screams, and tried not to wince. _If that was an easy labor,_ he thought, _I never want to know what a hard one looks or sounds like!_ Bending down, he kissed Hermione's cheek, and admired his newborn niece nestled in its mother's arms. "Congratulations, baby sister."

* * *

Hermione peered through the bars of Rose's crib as her little girl fell off to sleep. The infant clutched at a little blue blanket that had apparently been Ron's when he was a baby, her tiny hands in fists and with one thumb already in her mouth.

 _"I wish they may, and I wish they might, so goodnight, my someone, goodnight..."_ Hermione finished the lullaby. Sometimes, she wondered how she had gotten so lucky, to have such a gorgeous little creature as her child. She and Ron had waited so long for her, and it had been worth it. Every single second.

Rising, Hermione kissed Rose's temple lovingly, then glided towards her and Ron's bedroom, her nightdress swishing at her hips. Pulling back the covers, she climbed into bed beside her husband and pecked his cheek.

"She's asleep."

Ron smiled blearily. "Who wouldn't fall asleep to your voice? You're beautiful."

Hermione smiled, and squeezed him close. "I love you."

"I love you, too, beautiful girl."

The new parents lay there in silence for a moment. Until, Hermione's voice pinged out into the darkness.

"Ron?"

"Yes, love?"

"... I want another baby."

* * *

Harry watched surreptitiously from the landing on the Burrow's staircase. Hermione's belly was round as she flitted about at the stove, bouncing a two-year-old Rosie in her arms. Ron had his arms about his wife, smiling down at his little family and her womb, but there was a nervousness behind his eyes.

The whole family had been over the moon to hear that Ron and Hermione were expecting again, and so quickly after their first little bundle of blessings. It had been with joyous relief to observe Hermione sail through her first pregnancy, resulting in Rose, a gorgeous baby girl. Thank Merlin, the family had said, after they both had waited and tried for so long. From afar, Harry had watched, expecting something to go wrong, but when nothing did... He was only glad he had not let his guard down enough this second time around.

As the summer had chilled into fall, Harry had received letters from Ron discussing Hermione's preparations for the new baby. Words like contractions, cramps and unusual fatigue had jumped off the pages. Now that he could see his sister-in-law for himself as the family had now all descended on the Burrow for the Christmas holidays, Harry could clearly observe that she didn't... glow in exactly same way as she had while she was carrying Rosie.

Harry slid into the kitchen, pulling the hood of the brown University of Bristol jumper over his head. It had been a hand-me-down/birthday present from Hermione - mostly because it had shrunk in the wash, and it definitely wouldn't fit Ron.

"You're going out in this weather?" Ron gawped at his best mate.

Harry just shouldered his briefcase in answer. "I have a meeting with an... associate."

Hermione just grinned in understanding. "Hurry home." And she now turned to her toddler. "Rosie, can you say Buh-Bye to Uncle Harry? Say Buh-bye!" She waved Rose's fat little fist for her as she cooed in baby-talk.

Harry gave her a one-armed hug and kissed his niece's forehead. "I won't be long."

Ron watched him got out into the rain. "I know that face."

"Hmm?" his wife said absently, as she fed Rose her bottle.

"He's got his game face on." Ron peered into the driving rain. "Can't _imagine_ where he gets it from..."

* * *

The bar was smoky and noisy, obscuring Harry in a way that he much preferred, at least in the context of this... summit. Sliding into a corner booth, shoulders hunched, keeping the jumper's hood low over his eyes, he waited. Finally, the face of a man he had not seen in ten years surfaced, and Harry threw back his hood. The new arrival's gaze locked onto his.

"H... Harry?"

Harry smirked. "Hey, Big D." He beckoned forward. "Step into my office."

Dudley had clearly slimmed down in the ensuing decade, but that didn't stop the plush seats of the booth from sagging in protest as he lowered himself across from his cousin. Dudley fished a ciggy into his mouth.

"Light me?" Harry took the burner from him, sliding his thumb along the ball. The flame held, and Harry wafted it over the edge of the cigarette Dudley protruded out to him.

"You come with a challenge, eh? I was surprised to get your ow - your call," he corrected himself. "How well do you know this woman? Her history?"

"Almost as well as I know myself," Harry clipped back. "Been with her husband for ten years, took eight of them to have her first child - gem of a pregnancy. But before that, there was a miscarriage back in '98."

Dudley puffed out a ring of smoke, his eyes intrigued. "And now?"

Harry shrugged. "She's expecting again, about four months along, but some of her symptoms have been... worrisome." He leaned forward. "They say you're the best, Duds. I saw that interview with Piers Morgan on the BBC. Now, if I mean _anything_ to you, tell me now: can you take this case on? Cause I'll be _hanged_ if I watch my brother and sister-in-law get screwed over again!" Tears threatened his eyes and he blinked them away.

Dudley leaned back in the booth and nodded. "Yeah, I'm totally down. How far along was she with the kid she lost?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, trying to block the painful memories. "Two months."

Dudley nodded shortly. "Yeah, bring 'em in."

"I have to discuss it with them first, of course, but thanks, Big D. I'll call you."

* * *

Harry returned to the Burrow to find most of his family - including the older grandkids, engrossed in a Quidditch tournament; by now, the rain from the morning had dissipated. No sooner had he let himself into the house that Ron attacked him by the front door.

"Sssh! Harry! Come with me. Keep your voice low."

"What...? Ron, what's going on?" Harry demanded, as his brother-in-law hustled him up the back stairs, pausing only in front of his and Hermione's room.

"Listen!"

Through the crack in the door, Harry and Ron watched as Hermione rocked Rosie over her crib, singing her a lullaby:

 _"There must be something more to us than you and me. It must be tangled up some how, its destiny. I used to think the sum of one and one was two. But we add up to more me and you. When we are close together it's so plain to see. Together we are better than we used to be. I don't know how to say the things I'm thinking of. But this something more we're feeling must be love…."_

Harry side-eyed Ron heavily, who now had a dreamy expression on his face. "You dragged me up here for... Man, she's got you wrapped around her finger hook, line and sinker!"

"Yeah," sighed Ron. "Isn't it bloody _brilliant_?"

Standing up from where she had lowered Rosie into the crib (who was giggling and reaching for the mobile twinkling above it), Hermione twirled around, eyeing her best friends in amusement. She turned pink. "I didn't know we had an audience..."

Ron strode over and kissed her gently. "Anyone could watch you, love."

Hermione nestled herself in her husband's arms, his hands resting on her swelling stomach, as they gazed down at their daughter, lost in love. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen..." Ron's voice cracked on the phrase; he looked close to bursting into tears.

Harry just leaned against the doorjamb. His best mates had waited forever for Rose... he swore they would not have to wait forever again.

* * *

This had to be a dream. A sick prank. His brother-in-law and best friend had not just suggested what he had just suggested.

Ron shook his head as though he was trying to dislodge a fly. He slapped his hands into the wood of the kitchen table as he rose from his chair.

"You're mad, Potter! Stark - raving - _bloody_ mad!"

It was late at night. Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting at the Burrow's kitchen table, Rose nestled asleep in her mother's arms. Harry had just informed his family about the meeting with his "associate."

The Chosen One sighed heavily, having expected it to go over like this. "Ron -"

"Let me see if I've got this right, shall I? You want me and my wife to discuss our sex life and our child with your _cousin_ who abused you for sixteen years? Never mind that you're insane - this isn't any of your business!"

"This concerns my unborn nephew! I'd call that totally _motherfucking_ my business!" Harry snapped.

Hermione lay a gentle hand on Harry's palm. "Harry... I appreciate the sentiment..."

" _Appreciate the sentiment_?" Ron ogled at his wife. "He wants us to sit down with a monster!"

"He is NOT a monster!" Harry bit back. "I know him!"

"Why do you keep defending him?" Ron scoffed, turning away. "He's not even your family!"

Silence as the weight of the jab washed over all of them. When he spoke next, Harry's voice was quiet, gentle:

"He's no less my family than you two are." He sighed. "Ron, I know Dudley and I had a... contentious childhood. Frankly, he was a nasty little sod. But he's grown up since then. Graduated University. Westminister for medical school. Completing his residency at Middlesex, and people are already clamoring for him to set up his private practice. He's the best pregnancy and fertility specialist in Muggle London." He held up his hand. "You don't have to take the appointment, no harm, no foul. But if it would make you and Hermione feel better, I would go with you. As an emissary."

"Or a bodyguard," Ron grunted.

Harry chuckled. "I can promise you, there will be no fisticuffs!"

"I can't."

"Ron," Hermione scolded. "Ron... I... I want to go see this guy. Maybe he can help us."

Harry glanced to his sister-in-law gratefully. "Hermione, have I ever told you how much I love you and your good sense?"

"Only once or twice," Hermione smiled, rocking Rose in her arms.

Ron looked between two of the three people he cared for most in the world, and knew that he had lost. He threw up his hands. "All right, but this is on your hands, Potter! Clear?"

Harry smirked. "Crystal."

* * *

The fertility clinic at Middlesex featured long, white-washed hallways, which Harry, Ron and Hermione proceeded down as they approached Dr. Dudley Dursley's office. Rose had been left behind at the Burrow, where she would be the main attraction in final preparations for the Christmas holidays.

Rounding a final corner, there stood the man now, in the doorway of his office, smiling affectionately when he caught sight of his cousin. "Harry..."

Behind his brother-in-law, Ron stiffened. It could be a trap. One hand rested on his wand in the back pocket of his jeans. Dudley and Harry shook hands.

"And you must be Ron and Hermione," Dudley greeted. "Harry's... Harry's told me so much about you."

Ron didn't take the proffered hand right away. Once he did, however, Hermione followed his example, smiling weakly. "Hi... it's... nice to meet you, finally."

Dudley waved the three of them back. Ron and Hermione seated themselves in two chairs across from the spacious desk. Harry took a third, leaning against the far wall.

"Floor is yours, cuz," Harry ceded. "Just pretend I'm not here."

" _That'll_ be easy," Ron muttered sarcastically.

"Now, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley..." Dudley began. "Can you start by... relaying to me some of your symptoms from this pregnancy? In comparison to your previous one." He must have noticed Ron's brow furrow as he worked through the doctor's meaning, for he quickly added. "I know about the miscarriage..."

"You _told_ him about the miscarriage?" Ron gawped at Harry, bewildered, and even Hermione looked a little uncomfortable.

"Well, I couldn't exactly avoid it now, could I? I needed to paint a complete and accurate picture. That was actually what convinced Dudley to take your case on."

Ron scowled a little at Harry, before eventually facing Dudley again. "Yes... well... Hermione's been sleeping much more than she did while she was carrying Rosie, our daughter..."

The meeting went on like this, clipped and cordial. At least, until Hermione stood up. "Excuse me," she murmured. Harry waved Ron down, and followed his sister-in-law into the hallway. Hermione now spun to face him, eyes blinking back tears.

"I'm sorry, I can't... _handle_ this! I can't sit across from that man and pretend he didn't hurt someone I love!"

Harry sighed. He supposed that no one in his family - not even Ginny - would ever completely understand what he went through at the hands of the Dursleys, but he was safe now. A grown man with a family of his own. Didn't they realize this? He rubbed his hands soothingly over Hermione's shoulders.

"Hermione: if I had for any second thought you or Ron or the baby were in danger, I wouldn't have recommended him, much less brought you here. Look... forget for a minute that he's my cousin, forget that he and I have a history, forget that through marriage the two of you are distantly related! I know you don't trust Dudley, but if you can't trust Dudley, than you should at least trust me! Do you?" And his eyes searched her brown ones. "Do you trust me?"

Hermione gulped and dared to stare up into his face. "I trust you with my life. And my child's." She rested Harry's fingers over her abdomen. Harry kissed her hair.

"Then why don't we go back in?"

Dudley raised one eyebrow as Harry and Hermione came back into the room. "Why didn't you comfort her yourself?" he mildly asked Ron.

Ron gripped the handles of his armchair like they were a lifeline, growling. "I trust him with my wife."

Dudley peered closer just then, as if he was just remembering something. "I remember you," he suddenly whispered. "You were there in the getaway car that night with the bars, weren't you?"

"I reckon so."

All at once, the door opened, and a voice Harry thought he would never hear again boomed, "Sorry, Dudders, but I had to get you this; your secretary wouldn't let me back..."

Harry wheeled around in horror, even as he stood up out of his chair. Scarcely inside the doorway, Vernon and Petunia Dursley - looking like they had not aged at all well - halted.

Three pairs of eyes locked. Three hearts stopped beating. Three sets of muscles brimmed with tension.

Then, the tableau exploded.

"YOU!" Roaring like an angry bull, Vernon lunged at Harry. But unlike their tussles from decades before, this time Harry fought back. Gone were the days where he silently took each and every hit. Gone were the days when his uncle's very presence had him shivering like a small rabbit. For now, Harry Potter had faced and beaten far, far worse than Vernon Dursley.

The two men grappled for control, Harry staggering backward into the far wall, so that his head collided with a framed display of one of Dudley's diplomas.

"What are you doing here? Why are you tormenting us again, you useless freak!" Vernon was grunting, trying to gain the upper hand. Harry threw his uncle off him, and Vernon rounded on his son.

"What the hell is he _doing_ here?"

"I invited him. His friends are... dealing with a difficult pregnancy," Dudley explained. "Dad..."

But Vernon's eyes were now strangely focused on Hermione and her belly. Harry didn't mind how Vernon looked at him, but he sure as _bloody_ _hell_ minded how Vernon looked at her. Harry suddenly felt very protective of his sister-in-law.

"You're helping them breed more freaks?" And he lunged for Hermione as she shrank into her seat.

It happened before anyone could stop him. Harry was suddenly on Vernon's back like a monkey, a curled fist connected to a rippling, muscular arm now firmly locked around the Muggle's neck. The young wizard's face was twisted in rage as he growled. Harry's eyes locked onto Ron's.

"The baby! Get her out of here!"

Ron and Hermione dove for the door, Dudley hustling them away, and Petunia staggering back in confusion into the hall. Vernon sank to his knees, his nephew still across his back; the older man was struggling to get air. Harry briefly remembered the techniques his Auror mentor had shown him at the beginnings of a very long career, about how to deal with a Muggle assailant: _Identify the threat. Immobilize the threat. And, if necessary, neutralize it._

"Wait! Wait!" And Hermione wheeled back, one hand clutching her womb. "Harry!"

"GO _NOW_!" Harry growled like an animal.

Ron grabbed for his wife. "Hermione, quickly... hurry... come along..."

As the office cleared, Vernon charged forward, Harry still on top of him. The two men tumbled out the office door, into the opposite wall, and rolled into the hallway. Vernon was nearly on all fours now. He was wheezing, his limbs quivering. In the nick of time, Harry suddenly let go and stumbled back.

Vernon was nearly prone on the floor of the hallway, gulping in air. And for one mad moment, Harry felt eleven years old again, after he had done a strange and bewildering bit of what he didn't know at that time was magic.

"Uncle Vernon... I didn't... I'm sorry, I..."

"I asked you to stay away from our family," Vernon glowered at him. "And you... _betrayed_ us all."

Harry sidestepped Vernon, unable to resist sending a quick kick into his stomach, and he approached Dudley. "I'm sorry, I'm..." he panted, but Dudley held up a hand.

"Don't worry about it; I'll sort him out. Here's my card." Harry was amazed - and grateful - that his cousin was being so calm about this. Harry enveloped his best friends in a hug.

"Let's go."

"Wait!" And Dudley sent a genuine smile in Ron and Hermione's direction. "Good luck to you both."

Ron and Hermione both nodded, the latter shakingly. Then they left the office.

* * *

Harry kept his eyes firmly on the road, his knuckles turning white, bloodless, as they gripped the steering wheel. From the shotgun seat, he could feel Hermione's concerned, gentle eyes on him. He sighed heavily, and reached for the hand in her lap.

"Do you remember when you told me you were expecting Rosie, and I told you I would be her godfather?" He sent her a sideways smile. "Bit presumptive of me, I know..."

"There was _no one_ else," Hermione whispered with love.

"And I promised you as her godfather, I would protect her from anyone or anything? Well, you just got a glimpse of what that might look like."

He heard Hermione whimper, but the rest of the sound was drowned out by his dashboard intercepting an incoming call. Harry pressed to answer. "Hello?"

"Hey, are you all on your way home? Mum's gone mental cooking..." Ginny's sweet, soothing voice came over the line. She was the only one whom the Golden Trio had told about the fertility meeting.

"Gin... we're on the highway..."

"Well, just tell me how the _appointment_ went!"

"Sure. It's just... we're gonna be another 20 minutes in traffic, love." Harry's voice was clipped, low, rumbling and tired.

"Well, don't be _too_ late, you lot! It's the night before Christmas Eve!"

Harry took in his wife's amused chiding before hanging up the call. His eyes met Ron's in the backseat. Behind the dark circles, there was a gratefulness there, which Harry conveyed his understanding of with a short nod. They had each other's backs.

* * *

 _She could still feel the knife digging into her arm... could still hear Bellatrix firing question after question at her: where did you get the sword? When were you in my vault at Gringotts? Tell the truth, Mudblood, tell the truth! Crucio! A flash of green light... a blood-curdling scream..._

Hermione sat bolt upright in bed, panting. She could feel the sweat pooling and pouring down along her skin. Instinctively, she flew a hand to her womb. The baby inside her was still, and instinctively, she knew that it was safe. Just sleeping. Drawing her nightdress and wrap around herself, Hermione slowly exited the bed, careful not to wake her husband, and padded downstairs to the kitchen. She did not hesitate to take the landline phone off its hook. After she and Ron had gotten married, in searching for their first house, Hermione had insisted that the place be infused with both magical and Muggle influences, to also one day pass down to their children. Ron had agreed, because he adored hearing about his wife's Muggle upbringing.

Her shaking hands slowly calming from the fading nightmare, Hermione dialed the familiar number, and only hoped that her brother-in-law would not be too angry with her for waking him up in the middle of the night. However, Harry had always been something of an expert on nightmares and she needed to hear his voice, and his assurances.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end was groggy.

"Harry, it's Hermione. I'm sorry to wake you, but I had a nightmare. About... the Manor. Bellatrix."

Hours later, Ron awoke in an empty bed. "Hermione?" Frowning, he threw back the covers to go look for his wife.

He found her in their kitchen, the lights on, the landline phone to her ear. He could hear Harry all the way through the receiver.

"Take some Sleeping Draught. And don't try and hide what you are seeing in your dreams at night. Talk to me about them. Tell Ron about them, often. I can't promise they will ever fully go away like mine did, but it might help you to cope. Get some sleep, baby sister. I love you."

"Love you too, Harry. Good night." Hermione hung up, and turned into Ron's arms. She could just sense that he had been there. Ron kissed the top of her head.

"You are my brilliant, beautiful wife, and the mother of my child. I love you, always."

* * *

Mr. Weasley glanced down warily at his son-in-law. "Are you sure about this, Harry?"

Harry nodded grimly, holding up the latest edition of the _Quibbler_ in his lap. "Go on, Arthur. I've got this covered."

Arthur Weasley looked at his family. George and Angelina were still dutifully waiting to see how Hermione's childbirth went, with Angelina holding a sleeping Fred II. Ginny was also there, pregnant herself and with both James and Albus juggled in her arms. She watched her husband with concern, but she could not hide the silent understanding she also expressed. She knew why Harry felt the need to stay.

"Take them home, Gin," Harry told her quietly. He kissed Ginny on the cheek, then ruffled the heads of each of his sons affectionately. "I'll call periodically to report how she's doing."

The remaining band of Weasleys left, some more reluctantly than others. Now alone in the empty waiting room, with the darkness of deep night pressed against the glassy window panes, Harry did his best to read. All the same, his muscles were tense, primed for action the minute Ron emerged saying he needed him.

About ten minutes later, the sliding glass doors leading to the delivery ward opened, and Harry leapt out of his seat. A Healer bustled up to him.

"Mr. Potter, I'm sorry, but visiting hours are closed. We must shut down the waiting room for night owl admittance."

Harry shook his head. He hated using his heroic influence to get what he wanted, and only used the prestige of his name on rare occasions. This was one of those occasions.

"No, miss, I'm sorry. I'm staying right here."

"Sir, I know you are concerned about Mrs. Weasley. But I think it's best..."

Harry whipped out his wand, locking gazes with the poor Healer to make sure she saw the regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but if you want me out of this ward, you will have to physically drag me. Or call the Aurors. Oh, that reminds me... I'm the Head of the Auror Department, so only I can call them. I appreciate what you are doing here, but I am not leaving until I know my best friend and her baby are safe. Besides, my wife is the more accomplished at hexes."

The Healer's eyes went wide, but after a moment, she nodded, smiling gently. "All right." She departed, and Harry retook his seat. Scarcely five minutes had passed before the sliding doors opened again and Ron hurried out. He looked distraught, tear tracks glistening on his face.

Harry sprang to his side. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's taking too long, Harry! There hasn't been much progress. She's in a lot of pain..."

"Take me back there, now!" Harry demanded, and he followed Ron into the delivery ward at a brisk trot. The men burst into Hermione's room, to find her in stirrups, her face all red and scrunched up in what Harry could only surmise was the most unimaginable pain.

"All right, Mrs. Weasley, PUSH!" a Healer at the base of the bed commanded.

Hermione's expression contorted, and she let out a wail, choked by her own tears leaking out of her eyes.

"And... rest," the Healer prompted, and Hermione fell back into the pillows, her face ashen. Harry's stomach constricted when he noticed how small Hermione looked in that hospital bed, despite her swollen stomach. The doctor ordered one of his colleagues to take over supervision, then turned to Ron and Harry. "Gentlemen: may I talk with you alone?"

Exchanging worried glances, Ron and Harry stepped out into the hall. The Healer turned to face them, his expression grave.

"Hermione has exerted close to all she can. And the baby is still a short ways off from crowning. My team and I have been monitoring her vitals... she has grown weak. We are going to take every preventive measure with all deliberate speed, but there is a chance... that she might die giving birth to this baby."

Ron turned as white as Nearly Headless Nick, and Harry felt his knees wobble, in danger of sending him crumpling into the nearest wall.

"Mr. Weasley," the Healer said. "Have you and your wife discussed which life takes priority in such a scenario?"

Ron opened his mouth, and then closed it again, evidently still processing the news, before getting out, "Hermione's life takes priority."

Despite his professional demeanor, the Healer could not hide his shock. Harry wheeled to his best mate in disbelief. "Are you mad...?"

"I almost lost her once!" Ron snapped, jabbing a finger in Harry's face. "I will not lose her again!"

The three men shifted back into Hermione's room, the Healer maintaining his most clinical voice. "Mr. Weasley, am I correct that you wish for the child to be aborted if it threatens the life of the mother? Your wife's life takes precedent?"

"No!" Everyone turned to find Hermione struggling to sit up against her fluffed pillows. "My son's life takes priority!"

"Love..." Ron pleaded.

"This is not up for discussion, Ronald!" Hermione glowered at him. "You will choose our son over me, if it comes down to it!"

"No, I am _not_ going to lose you again!" Ron thundered in a deadly hiss, eyes moist. He clasped her hand in his own.

Hermione's gaze was steel. "If you love me, you will ensure the safety of our son. Ron... if you love me... promise me that you will choose Hugo over me." When he didn't respond right away, she dug her nails into his knuckles. "Promise me!"

"I... I promise," Ron got out.

Hermione's eyes now swiveled to those of her best friend. "Harry... you make my husband choose our son. You make my husband choose our son."

Harry nodded, giving his word.

The Healer ordered Hermione to resume pushing, as his colleague nudged Harry and Ron towards the door. "Gentlemen, I am going to have to ask you to leave." Harry and Ron tried to fight against it, Ron screaming his wife's name, but they were thrown into the hall.

Hours passed. More than once, Harry was tempted to stalk out of the hospital for a smoke, but he didn't want to miss any word on Hermione. Ron mostly kept his eyes on the door to her room, head in his arms.

Finally, the head Healer emerged. And he was smiling.

"It's a bouncing baby boy. And the mother is going to be just fine."

Ron and Harry deflated in relief.

"She rallied. Your wife is quite strong, Mr. Weasley. I seriously thought she was going to leave us, but she proved me wrong."

"Thank you," Ron broke down. " _Thank you_. Can I see them?"

"Of course." The Healer allowed Harry and Ron back. Hermione still look dwarfed among the pillows and sheets, but she was smiling tiredly and held a bundle in her arms. Ron kissed her everywhere, again and again, his tears of relief falling on her upturned face.

"Don't ever do that again!" Ron wept. "I can't bear to risk it. I think..." and he caressed Hugo's head. "I think this little guy needs to be our last one, love."

Only Harry seemed to notice the sadness in Hermione's eyes, as she whispered, "OK."

* * *

"Are you sure you're OK with this?" Harry asked Ron, as they left Auror Headquarters and joined the throng clogging the Ministry Atrium at the end of the work day. Hermione had been nursing Lily on a drained Ginny's behalf once a day for the past week-and-a-half, and she and Harry were already thinking about amping up the dosage to twice daily.

"Of course. And it's not like we have a choice, do we? Lily needs to eat, or she'll die, and Merlin knows you need someone to be the calming force in your house. She's Ginny almost all over, but that is pretty damn obviously your personality!"

Harry smirked. "How do you mean?"

"I mean you're a placid little git, except at the dinner table. Picky, picky, picky!"

"Hey, at least I ate whatever Hermione put in front of me in the tent! You'd never shut up about how your Mum could conjure good cooking out of thin air! Who was being picky then?"

Ron pointedly didn't answer, as he spied his wife jostling towards them through the crowd near the lifts.

"Hi," Hermione sighed, kissing Ron's lips gently, then a buzz on the cheek for Harry. "Still OK for us to stop at your place, Harry?"

"Course. Gin usually beats me home from the _Prophet_ ; she should be starting to get supper on the table for the boys. Follow me." And they headed for the lifts.

* * *

Albus was banging around in his high chair as the Golden Trio entered the Potter residence, and 3-year-old James was badgering his mother with questions.

"Hey, little bugger!" Ron ruffled his older nephew's hair, then pecked his sister's cheek over by the stove. "Don't bother setting a place for us, Gin, 'Mione and I will just be in and out."

"Oh," Ginny turned away from the stove to see Harry and Hermione behind her. "Right. Feeding time." She waved a hand. "Well. Get on with it, then."

Harry frowned hard, and Hermione took a sudden interest in whatever make-believe game Albus was playing. When the silence dragged on, Harry cleared his throat.

"She's... in the nursery, then?"

"Mm-hmm." Ginny didn't even turn around this time, resolutely stirring the pot of soup. Harry gave a jerk of his head to his best friend's wife. "Follow me."

Harry and Hermione proceeded up the stairs, and entered the nursery. Cooing could be heard from the crib.

"Just waking up from her nap. Perfect timing!" Harry made a mental note to keep a closer eye out for the baby monitor. Ginny had promised to have it on her at all times, even when she was at work. Though Audrey had been admirable in agreeing to baby-sit, which reminded him to talk Percy round into paying her for her trouble.

Hermione glided over to the crib. "Hi, Lily Bear," she crooned. "Are you hungry? Auntie's here..." She grunted a little as she picked the baby girl up, and Lily already turned into her with a curious ease. Within seconds, she was feasting.

Harry leaned against the door frame, silently observing. Hermione's back was to him, though she had already expressed to him that she didn't care if he saw her.

"You're practically my baby sister," Harry had waved away, feeling more awkward than he ever had in his life. "I care, all right?"

It took several minutes, but finally Lily had drunken her fill. Hermione lowered her niece back into the crib. "There we go..." she sighed, pulling up the blanket on the already-sleeping baby and kissing her forehead. There was something in the whites of her eyes, Harry spotted in that moment, a kind of... longing. Wistful sadness. Hermione glided towards him, and he pecked her cheek.

"You're the best, sis."

"Ron and I are trying for another baby." Hermione blurted it out, with no pretense.

Harry blinked rapidly once, then again. "Already? But Hugo was only born in April!"

It was the wrong thing to say, for to his great distress, Hermione suddenly began to cry. "I want to be pregnant again!" she whimpered. "I want Ron to look at me like I'm the most beautiful witch ever..."

Harry nervously chuckled. "Ron _always_ thinks you're the most beautiful witch ever!" She didn't take the bait, which only concerned him more. He could always get her to laugh. He had even succeeded once during those miserable winter weeks on the Hunt, when it had just been the two of them in the tent and they had both been so lonely, pining for and missing their significant others. Many years later, Hermione had once confided in her surrogate brother how she had already felt married to Ron in her heart, even then. Harry had to admit that, when it came to Ginny, he had felt the same.

A sudden thought struck him. Call it being related to a doctor, but Harry had discovered in himself an inherent knack for medically getting a read on people. Dudley notwithstanding, it hadn't been too long ago that he had discovered his mother had been a Healer, early on in his parents' marriage, before they'd had him. He now gripped Hermione by the shoulders.

"'Mione... are you... depressed? You know, post-partum?"

Tellingly, she refused to look at him. "I'm fine..."

"Don't you dare lie to me." The words were forceful, even if the tone was not.

She looked at him, lip quivering, tears back in her eyes. "Ron knows," she admitted at last. "He's been brilliant, so understanding... please, don't say anything!" she begged of him. "We don't want to worry the family, and a baby might still happen!"

Harry had several things he'd like to say on the matter, but he kept his mouth shut. Hermione's second pregnancy hadn't been smooth sailing, and the birth was touch-and-go. Harry had sat vigil in St. Mungo's all night, long after the rest of the Weasleys had left, refusing to be kicked out beyond visiting hours and even threatening to hex anyone who dared try. At one point, it had been an open question whether Hermione would survive the childbirth. Remembering how Rose had been an almost ridiculously easy baby hadn't helped things.

"I'm not trying to take advantage of you, nursing Lily..." Hermione was rambling.

"Stop," Harry shook his head.

"But I offered..."

"And I accepted. Believe me, you're doing us a favor. I've been staying up most nights going over documents, and I've read some things that are... encouraging." He kissed her forehead. "I'm bloody _thrilled_ you and Ron are trying for another baby. Just... _please_ be careful, little sister." He couldn't stress it enough. Harry knew that if Ron lost Hermione, he, Harry, in turn would lose Ron. His brother-in-law had already gone through the agony of having Hermione taken away from him once long ago, and this second time more recent. Ron Weasley refused to ride that gauntlet again. But he also wanted to do everything in his power to make his wife happy. If that meant going for broke and becoming pregnant with a third baby, he'd take that risk. But Harry also knew that, in a scenario where Ron would have to choose between his wife and his baby, he'd choose his wife, hands down, no contest. Ron loved Hermione that much.

Hermione hugged him. "I will." She kissed his cheek, then blew another kiss in Lily's direction. Harry watched her as she descended the landing, called to Ron, and the tell-tale crack of them Disapparating could be heard.


End file.
